


We Have Galaxies, But Only Needed One Gym

by kiki_chu



Series: Haikyuu!! Themed Weeks and Events [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Crack Treated Seriously, Feelings, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Melancholy, Volleyball in Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_chu/pseuds/kiki_chu
Summary: Suga and Oikawa are both professionals playing Volleyball in order to win resources for their planetoids. Their situations couldn't be more different, but they have some similarities where it counts.





	We Have Galaxies, But Only Needed One Gym

**Author's Note:**

> April 29th: patterns / post apocalyptic / **free prompt**
> 
> This started as a post apocalyptic au, but then I thought about how people really should have gotten off Earth while they could, and several thousand words later this is where things ended up.
> 
> Thanks to [Sleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleigh) for betaing and for screaming at all the appropriate moments.

If he were to be born in an earlier time, Suga would choose the mid twentieth century Earth. Post World War II Japan is something he would be willing to live through to witness the Space Race. How amazing would it be to live through that moment when space travel transitioned from fantasy to possibility? What awe and wonder they must have had then, before humanity had destroyed their home planet and needed to flee into the vast scarcity of space. Additionally, Suga would have liked to have made a go for a spot at the Olympics, and the 1960s and 1970s was a golden era for Japanese volleyball. He would have liked to have been part of that.

 

When he writes about all this in a paper for high school, the teacher smiles and then pulled him aside after class. She asks if he intends to pursue Volleyball and cautions him that though winning priority for their planetoid, Karasuno, during the biannual matches is important; the researchers who work to solve the resource shortage are just as vital and heroic. She tells him that his grades are promising, and that he can do so much more if he applies his full attention.

 

Suga smiles through the lecture, but privately he wonders if more promising persons like Asahi, who looks like he’ll continue growing tall and strong, or Daichi, who’s steady dependability wouldn’t be out of place leading a space fleet into battle, receive similar lectures.

 

Almost a hundred years after the survivors from Japan had settled in this cluster of particularly resource-poor planetoids, their descendents continue to band together under the umbrella of their shared origins. There is no point in war or hoarding at the expense of others; with so much of the original population lost on Earth, they must save what fragments of humanity that remain. They shared the resources they grow, create, and scavenge, so that no planetoid starves. They also devised a way to divide what little excess and luxuries they manage to collect.

 

The planetoids created a Volleyball League. They chose the sport since it employs small teams composed of various abilities and can be played in small areas with little equipment. Twice a year the teams representing the various planetoids meet, and resources are dolled out depending on the results.

 

Players for the official Volleyballs teams are idols for their home planetoids, heroes more savory than scavengers and more romantic than researchers.

 

Suga knows all that, but more than anything he just wants to play volleyball.

 

.

 

Oikawa loves volleyball. He enjoys drilling with his team and watching their collective talents increase exponentially. He likes the view serving from the back line and getting the ball to go exactly when you want it. He adores the smack of the ball against his hand and the nearly silent squeak of his game flats gripping the court. He  _ love _ practicing in the dark, just him, a basket of balls, and the galaxy sparkling from the otherside of the clear-domed ceiling.

 

It works out well for him, then, that he has a strong talent for the sport and doesn’t mind putting in the work to make him feared opponent.

 

It’s an unspoken agreement that he’ll join Aobajousai’s team once he finishes high school. He spends his long breaks working with the team and learning all their intricacies and foibles like a good setter should. As soon as he finishes his compulsory education he’s drafted, already signing contracts before the ink on his diploma dries.

 

Everyone congratulates him on nabbing such a great opportunity. His already substantial fan base balloons. Someone he doesn’t recognize mentions what an inspiration he is during their graduation speech. No one even asked him if this is what he wants.

 

Oikawa gets his official jersey, clean white and pale turquoise with the number one iridescent yet regal on the back. Along with them his new coach delivers a stack of schedules and ideas about the starting lineup.

 

Oikawa loves volleyball, but he might hate Volleyball.

 

.

 

Suga isn’t drafted for Karasuno’s Volleyball team. Asahi and Daichi receive offers, and Suga smiles for their sakes. He ignores the awkwardness his cheer creates and avoids his friends for a while. He sulks for a week. He knows that being drafted is unlikely, but being the only one not chosen is a hard blow. Still, it wasn’t his friends’ fault. In the end he decides that now he knows how hard he has to work, how much further he must still goo. He stops sulking, and resumes practice with his friends, going for it harder than ever. 

 

After graduation, Suga tries out for Karasuno’s team. He’s accepted into the reserves and is thankful to be there. He attends every practice, honing his own skills while keeping an eye on the players so he can get to know their play styles. He gets more practice filling in as a libero during practice matches than he does as a setter.

 

Suga thinks it might not be so bad this way. He gets to stay with his friends and play the game he loves without the pressure of trying to win matches. He sees how Asahi frets over the responsibility, his desires at war with his nerves; from the bags under Asahi’s eyes, Suga’s able to tell that his friend is having nightmares over the situation. Daichi weathers the duty in the saltwort way he does such things, but Suga knows that he’s harder on himself than anyone else; after making a mistake he thinks he shouldn’t, Daichi can always be found in the gym, training and drilling late into the night.

 

Suga should be happy with the way things are. He’s doing what he loves without having the hopes of the planetoid dragging him down harder than Earth’s gravity. He should be, but he isn’t Because no matter that Suga can be just as anxious as Asahi, he also likes to think of himself as dependable as Daichi. What’s more, he wants to stand on the court. He wants to play and to have other people see him play. He wants to inspire the next generation of players how the Little Giant, a player from the one time that Karasuno stood at the top of the league, inspired him, Daichi, and Asahi.

 

He gets his chance in the worst way possible. Disaster strikes, and it leaves the Karasuno team without a coach and their setter, Keishin Ukai, permanently sidelined. Ukai switches to the coaching position, and Suga is put on the official roster with only two weeks until the start of the first official match of the year.

 

Suga spirals into worries along with Asahi, spends late nights practicing with Daichi, but he’s not completely unprepared. Even though he hasn’t worked with the team much, he knows them. He’s spent long hours watching Ukai set for them and imagining what he would do in the other’s place.

 

Suga does his best to slide into place on the team. It’s not quite a perfect fit, but he’s been playing with Asahi and Daichi for years so he’s got a good head start. The first time one of the players Suga’s unfamiliar with, claps him on the back and tells him that he placed the ball perfectly, Suga feels like he’s really making a place for himself. That feeling itself is almost as good as winning a matching.

 

.

 

Aobajousai’s team is tailor made for Oikawa. Maybe not intentionally, but Oikawa has been their intended setter for years, so of course certain decisions had been made with him in mind. The team is a well oiled machine. They’re determined to make it to the top of the tournament bracket because even though they’ve always gotten good results, they haven’t been the best in a long time.

 

Everyone is pinning their hopes on Oikawa. He takes the pressure and bears it like a mantle, just a consequence of role he’s found himself in. He takes hundreds of pictures, with his team and alone, and his face is blazoned across the planetoid on posters and screens, looking off into the distance as if he can see victory on the horizon and smiling, charmingly personable. Oikawa starts receiving fan mail from residents on other planetoids. 

 

The assistant coach hires a part-time public relations specialist especially for his use. Oikawa uses the fees from the photo shoots along with his own money to hire a private assistant to manage his schedule. His days are filled with PR activities, photo shoots, practice, practice, and more Volleyball practice. He squeezes out as much time on the gravity-controlled court or with a ball as possible, but tries to balance it with sleep and beauty treatments so he looks as fresh and sparkling as possible each day.

 

Even though Oikawa hasn’t played in an official match yet, he’s one of  _ the _ faces of Volleyball. He’s certainly the best looking one.

 

But the Spring Tournament, named for an outdated Earth season, draws near, and soon enough it will be time for Oikawa to show that his fame and privilege is deserved. 

 

Their first match is against Oomisaki, a planetoid that has historically only gotten middling to poor results. Even though this was the first match of the year and teams changed between tournaments, Aobajousai is confident that they will win this one. The sanctioned court is enclosed by a magnetic and polymer shield. Camera and microphones are in place to record everything without hindering the view of way of the audience, who fill out the limited seating to bursting.

 

The teams greet each other and the six judges. Then representatives from both sides examine the courts and test its gravity setting. After waving a greeting to his fans in the stands, Oikawa gets on with his own preparations. He twists and stretches, feeling the cool elastine of his uniform move and mold to his body. In old images of volleyball players, they wore looser clothing, but more form fitting options had become more popular in the post-Earth century being more practical for insulation and aerodynamic purposes; skin tight uniforms are not prone to floating around. Additionally, uniforms, knee pads, and foot-moulding flats are all created to the specifications of the individual players using materials that are either skid-assist or pro-grip. 

 

Oikawa’s setup isn’t particularly complicated, but it took a long time to get his flats set up the way that he desires: with the perfect balance of grip for setting and jumping with but with enough skid to glide across the court. It wouldn’t be too much to say that his footwear is one of Oikawa’s secret weapons.

 

With the formalities out of the way, the teams head to the court. Oikawa finally gets to do what he’s being paid to do. He plays. And he wins.

 

.

 

It takes time for the team to adjust to the change in setters and coaches. They each know what they’re supposed to do, but it isn’t until their first match against Date that they settle together. Their individual abilities meld together, filling in each other’s weaknesses until they’re a force strong enough to pierce through Date’s infamous defense.

 

They win.

 

Even hours after game set is called, Suga can’t settle down. His first official match and  _ they won _ . The words continuously loop through his mind, and he just can’t sleep no matter how he stares at the shadows on the ceiling of the room that had been allotted to Karasuno. He sits up and squints against the darkness to make out the peaceful forms of his teammates. Asahi mumbles something and curls into his pillow, but no one else stirs.

 

They have a game tomorrow. He’s up in the stratosphere right now because of their win, and if they lose because he’s too tired to play his best, he’ll plunge into despair. He’ll hate himself for risking the chances of his team and the prosperity of his planetoid. But willing himself to sleep isn’t getting him anywhere, so Suga slips out of his cot and sneaks out of the room wearing an oversized shirt, shorts, and fuzzy socks.

 

He heads to the Volleyball court. It’s the only thing that he can think to do in order to tire himself out. He locates a ball and tosses it up into the air. He sets it back up repeatedly, trying to get the same height over and over again. He works up a rhythm, the gentle sound of the ball whistling through the night air punctuated by the firm taps of the ball meeting his fingertips.

 

The longer he keeps the ball up the more he can feel himself focusing. He closes his eyes, keeping his movements measured and deliberate. He can hear his breath, the tensing of his muscles, and the stretch in his back as he arches.

 

“Your form is beautiful.”

 

His eyes pop open, and he pushes too far, setting the ball further back than he intends. Suga turns in time to see it land soft thunk in the hands of the person standing behind him. In the low glow of the court, the intruder stands straight and tall with the ball held between his hip and his hand. He’s wearing a tank and sweatpants and his tousled hair makes it look like he also came here after failing to fall asleep. He steps forward, and Suga is able to recognize his hair and the handsome face that has been on an increasing amount of advertisements lately.

 

Suga thought he when he came face to face with Oikawa it would be on the count, with lights beating down on them and surrounded by the barrier muffled crowd. He could never have imagined that they would actually meet too-late at night illicitly practicing while dressed for sleep.

 

“You’re Sugawara, the new setter for Karasuno, right?” Oikawa smiles and holds out a hand. “Your team is looking pretty good considering how short a time you’ve been working together.”

 

Not only was Oikawa good looking and a good player, but he also took the time to look into his opponents. But was that a dig in his last comment? Suga shook the outstretched hand.

 

“Thank you. You’re Oikawa from Aobajousai. I think I’ve seen ten posters with your face since arriving here.”

 

Oikawa laughs and tosses the ball, flicking his wrist to send it spinning. He catches it before tossing it to Suga. Without the court’s gravity field, the ball floats slower than normal. Suga straightens his arms and bends his knees on relex, receiving the ball easily and sending the ball to Oikawa. Oikawa hits the ball back, and they begin passing it back and forth. 

 

“Sorry about that. When they told me they wanted to put me on posters, I had no idea they were going to post them off-planet.”

 

When the ball is passed to him this time, Suga shifts his stance and sets the ball. He’s never played with Oikawa before and the other setter doesn’t hit very much, but Suga’s seen plenty of recordings between recorded matches and promotional clips so he sets the ball where he thinks Oikawa would like it. Oikawa spikes the ball, waiting until for the second it hovers in the right place with his arm drawn back, before lashing out. He hits the ball away from Suga, but without the shield in place, the ball hits a wall and rebounds, smacking Oikawa in the face.

 

Both Oikawa and Suga are stunned. The offending ball bounces away into the shadows and Oikawa’s face reddens where it was hit. Blood starts trickling from Oikawa’s nose and both of startle into movement. 

 

“Ah!” Oikawa cups one hand under his chin and pinches his nose. He isn’t quick enough and a drop of blood drips onto his tank top.

 

“Hold on a second.”

 

Suga runs over to the water fountain set into one of the walls. He digs through the pockets of his shorts, but they are completely empty. With no other option, he pulls his shirt off and runs water over it. He wrings it out so it is damp but not dripping and brings it over to Oikawa.

 

“Here.” Suga sticks his hand into the shirt and switches his hand out for Oikawa on his nose.

 

“Thanks.” Oikawa’s voice sounds silly between his nose being pinched and the wet shirt in his face.

 

They shift so that Oikawa is holding his own nose again, and Suga leads him to sit on the bench for reserve players. They wait in silence, an occasional chill crawling up Suga’s spine. After a while Oikawa pulls Suga’s shirt away from his nose, no blood dribbles out. He wrinkles his nose, testing it, but still nothing. Oikawa looks at Suga, his face still pink from being hit and a trail of dried blood from his nose to chin.

 

“Thank you, again.”

 

They both look at Suga’s shirt, still damp and a little bloody. There was no way that Suga could put it back on. 

 

“I’ll wash this before returning it.”

 

“It’s fine. It’ll be just as fast to clean it myself” Suga takes the shirt back, folds it so the outside is clean and then wipes the blood of Oikawa’s face. “You probably shouldn’t be walking around with blood all over you.”

 

“You’re really nice, Suga-chan.”

 

“Is that so?” Having cleaned off the rest of the blood, Suga balls his shirt and sets it to the side.

 

“Also, your body is great. I can really see your years of dedication.”

 

Suga snorts, considers throwing his bloody shirt at Oikawa, but decides on letting the other man off with a punch to his side.

 

“Ow!” But Oikawa is laughing.

 

After that it’s impossible for Suga to think of Oikawa as imposing. Though he is vain and a terrible flirt. The two of them continue to chat, talking about how much they love volleyball - the court fresh in the morning, and the sound of leather striking a hand or the ground, the feeling that can only be achieved by putting the ball exactly where you know a spiker wants it - until Suga starts to alternate between yawning and shivering.

 

“You should go to bed.” Oikawa tells him. “We should both go to bed. We’ve both got games tomorrow.”

 

Suga covers another yawn and stands. “You’re right. If we win our games tomorrow, we’ll be up against each other next. I want to meet you on the court.” A smirk. “I want to be the one to show this puffed up setter I know a thing or two.” 

 

“Oh? What if this unspeakably handsome and charming setter is the one to show you how it is?”

 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Suga started walking, leaving Oikawa to follow. “The guy I’m talking about is clumsy enough to spike a ball into his own face.”

 

“Suga-chan…” Oikawa whines.

 

Suga laughs, and then they’re at the branch in the hallways. He looks at Oikawa, the red mark on his face has faded, and maybe it’s the dim lighting but Suga thinks that Oikawa is even better looking this close up than he in the advertisements. Would the advertisers artificially tone down his looks in order to forestall riots and the risk to those with heart problems?

 

“I really want to play with you.” Oikawa tells him.

 

“I’ll meet you on the court.” Suga promises.

 

.

 

The second day is easy for Oikawa, they win two matches to zero. Just as important, Karasuno also manages to end their match victoriously at two to one. Suga keeps his promise. Two days after meeting a man made of stardust and ambient lighting, Oikawa meets that same beautiful man on the court.

 

It’s not a fair match up. Aobajousai is one of the top tier teams, and Karasuno has been struggling in the middle of the pack even before they had to scramble with their lineup. If this was a movie, Suga would inspire his team to overcome their opponent, probably revealing a secret skill during the match. In that situation, Oikawa would probably be the villain, a pretty face, but rotten on the inside, just to add some drama. But this isn’t a movie, and even though Oikawa acknowledges Suga and Karasuno’s skill, he and Aobajousai are just better; they practiced together longer, sweated more.

 

After match point is called, Oikawa catches Suga’s eyes through the net. Suga has a smile on, but it isn’t the joyful, sparking like crystals, smile that Suga had given him nights ago. Instead there it’s a painful, fragile thing, barely hiding the way Suga bites the inside of his lip to keep them from trembling. Oikawa thinks he sees tears in Suga’s eyes, but the other man rubs them away before he can be sure.

 

Oikawa doesn’t know what to say, but he wants to say something. He stands near the net, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and looking, no  _ staring _ , at Suga.

 

Suga sees him, hesitates, but eventually comes over.

 

“Good game.” Oikawa says for a lack of anything else. “Your team played well.”

 

“Thanks.” Was that a sniffle? “You guys were great too.”

 

“Did you want to-” What? Go out sometime? Hang out? Meet me on the night darkened court again? Smile, please?

 

Suga cuts him off before Oikawa can come up with anything to say. “Sorry, I can’t talk much right now. My team’s heading out.”

 

Suga is turning and walking away, but Oikawa finally knows what he wants to say.

 

Looking at that slender back in orange and black Oikawa says. “Will you watch me play?”

 

It might be cruel to ask, especially right now, but Oikawa really wants Suga in the stands.

 

“You’re pretty inconsiderate.” But there’s a small smile on Suga’s lips, delicate like spun sugar. “I’ll be there. You’re going to take the whole tournament, right?”

 

It’s been a long time since Oikawa lost, but he still knows that while losing to the winner sounds like it should make things hurt less, it doesn’t. However, in that moment he would have promised anything to make cheer Suga up. He wants that night back, the shadows creating interesting patterns over them, the teasing look back on Suga’s face, the fascinating expanse of bared skin. He’d even take back the sting of his face, just to rewind time.

 

But he can’t. Oikawa can only look forward to tomorrow and all the days after.

 

“We will.”

 

.

  
  


Suga watches Oikawa lead his team to victory after victory. After every game, Oikawa waits at the edge of the court and looks into the stands. Suga smiles and waves, but doesn’t meet him. He’s not ready to face Oikawa, in all his uniformed glory, just yet.

 

Night, comfortable in their sleepwear and with the dark to blur their faces, is a different story. Every night they meet on the court and pass the ball back and forth. They make small talk, but never speak about Volleyball or the tournament that is over for Suga but still ongoing for Oikawa.

 

Suga talks about Karasuno. About the narrow alleyways and the huge industrial complexes. His home planetoid is known for the manufacturing equipment for space travel, but there are also rivers with grassy banks, and beautiful orange sunsets.

 

In return, he hears about Aobajousai from Oikawa. About a foreign landscape of trees, fields, and gardens. Their top export is paper goods and plant materials. Oikawa talks about the pale blue sky and the scent of greenery and earth.

 

They don’t meet for long, both of them keep a careful eye on the time, but Suga feels like he’s come to know Oikawa. Oikawa is no longer a flat, one dimensional face to him, and their undefined relationship teeters on some nebulous precipice that Suga is unable - or unwilling - to recognize.

 

Suga ignores the niggling in the back of his mind and the looks of his teammates and attends the rest of Oikawa’s matches. Every time Oikawa serves, sets the ball just so, or dumps the ball on his opponent's court, Suga battles the need to clap or cheer with the the pangs in his heart when he remembers how effective those same moves had been against his own team.

 

Oikawa takes his team to the final round, and they’re up against their arch-rivals, Shiratorizawa. Oikawa is brilliant as alway, he sparks his team and they sprint, dive, and leap around the court. 

It’s not enough.

 

When the match is called, Shiratorizawa retains their champion status. Oikawa claps his hands together and gather with his team around him. He’s smiling, but it’s more hollow than any other expression Suga’s seen from him. Suga is standing near the edge of the court before he knows what he’s doing.

 

The teams exits the court and Oikawa is the last one off. He’s looking back, taking in the scenery as though he is the last one to depart the devastated Earth but just needs one more look. Suga knows that feeling, he feels it still, but his pain has tempered in the days since Karasuno’s loss.

 

As Oikawa passes Suga, their eyes meet and Oikawa attempts to twist his mouth into a smile. Suga shakes his head, rests a hand lightly on Oikawa’s warm arm. It too soon right now. Oikawa’s head must be full of loss and questions about what he could have done to turn things around. In a mind so full there isn’t much space for Suga or his words, but just a little is enough.

 

“I’ll meet you tonight,” Is what Suga tells him.

 

Another promise, but this one is easier by far to keep. Maybe it would be something for Oikawa to latch onto while he dealt with his turbulent thoughts in the hours ahead. Suga lets his hand trail down, brushing lightly over Oikawa’s arm, before withdrawing.

 

The tournament is over but there are still things to do. The closing ceremonies is in a couple of hours, and while Aobajousai and Shiratorizawa washed up, the rest of the teams need to change for the awards ceremony.

 

Oikawa walks away, heading back into the locker room, but Suga can hear his response, quiet as it is.

 

“Tonight.”

 

.

 

The last several hour have been agonizingly long for Oikawa. Several sponsors and representatives from Aobajousai had congratulated him on his results. Second place, Best Setter Award, and stealing a set off of Shiratori all in his first tournament are achievements beyond their hopes, and they expressed their high expectations for his future.

 

The major downside to his fame is this. While all of his teammates are able to excuse themselves from all the business talks, only Oikawa is unable to pry himself himself away. Everyone wants to speak with him, but all he wants is to be alone for a little while.

 

Finally, after the awards are handed out and a grand dinner is served and devoured, the tournament facility is lulled into a overfed slumber. Oikawa gets his chance at alone and quiet, but there is still Suga to meet, so his feet drag him back out.

 

The court is gone, lines, nets, and seating put away. It’s darker now and colder. Tomorrow the bounty will be divided up according to the performances of all the Volleyball teams, and then everyone will separate, leaving this building silent and empty until the next tournament.

 

At first, Oikawa doesn’t see Suga. Then the other man shifts, and Oikawa spots him sitting against a wall. His legs are bare, shorts again, but he’s wearing a sweater this time and has folded his arms over his exposed knees. 

 

Oikawa heads over and sits down, close but not near enough to accidentally brush against Suga. They sit together in silence for a while, and Oikawa thinks that this is much better than being alone.

 

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Suga asks eventually.

 

Oikawa is surprised to find that he is. This is his first time leaving Aobajousai, and despite the fact that he has been too busy to feel homesick he has missed it. Maybe talking to Suga all these night has helped ease things.

 

“Yeah. How about you?” 

 

“I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own room again. I like my teammates, but ten days and nights together is too much.”

 

Oikawa’s experience is a bit different. He likes being around only his teammates and not having to worry about publicity events. He misses home, but he also enjoys the days filled by his team and Volleyball and his nights filled with Suga and thoughts of him.

 

“Will you miss me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He’s not sure who reaches for who first, but their hands come together, and their fingers wind around each other. Oikawa scoots closer, and Suga leans his head onto Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa listens to the sounds of their breaths, the noise so much louder in this dark and empty room.

 

“Give me your contact address?” Suga tightens his hand on Oikawa’s. “I’ll video call you every night.”

 

“And what? We’ll only see each other during tournaments where we’ll be competing against each other?”

 

“It’s not like we had difficulty with that this time,” Suga objects.

 

Oikawa doesn’t stop, the pain from losing earlier is still a painfully fresh bruise on his insides. “And we’ll just continue that way for how long? Beating each other time after time, one of us always losing, unless both of us lose, of course, until we have to retire? What kind of a relationship is that?”

 

Because transfering isn’t an option for either of them. They both love playing, love watching the other play. To see one of them sidelined for the other would be a blow too great to their fledgling relationship. And visits are impossible. Neither of them are rich enough to afford off-planetoid trips, even if that sort of excess could be excused.

 

“It could be ours.” Suga pulls his hand out of Oikawa’s hold, rises to his knees, and put one hand on either side of Oikawa’s face. “I’m going to hate losing, no matter who it’s too. You’re like that too. It hurts and just plain sucks. But I don’t hate the other team winning.” He smirks. “And I don’t think you’ll hate me when Karasuno beats Aobajousai either.”

 

Oikawa smiles back, unable to do anything but admire the fire in Suga’s eyes. “You can try.”

 

“We will, and we’ll win too.” Suga’s hands slip back from Oikawa’s face, one examines the curve of his ear and the other teases a tuft of hair. “I’m not saying that us dating won’t be difficult. No matter how you look at it being able to meet only twenty days out of the year is rough. But I don’t want to give up on us without trying.”

 

Suga’s hands still, and Oikawa stares at him, entranced. On his face is the smile Oikawa has spent days longing for. And now here it is so very close. Oikawa’s heart is pounding just as hard as it had during the match earlier. He feels like someone had turned off the artificial gravity, and that he might float away into the depths of the galaxy if it isn’t for Suga’s touch keeping him anchored to this dark corner of an empty hall. 

 

Suga is staring into Oikawa’s eyes, and, Ancient Earth, his eyes are so soft and warm, sweet like a cup of hot chocolate.

 

“Oikawa, I like you.”

 

.

 

It’s early afternoon and all the supplies have been loaded. All that’s left before take off is to board the passengers. Suga and Oikawa are standing on the landing, a little apart from both of their teams, murmuring quietly to each other, grey and brown haired heads bent close. Suga is dressed comfortably for travel, but Oikawa’s clothes are fitted and pressed; he’s scheduled for a recording during his flight home. 

 

Are his feelings the reason why Oikawa looks so good today, Suga wonders. He didn’t find him as attractive when they first met so they must be.

 

“Koushi-chan, I’ll miss you so much!” Oikawa throws his arms around Suga’s shoulders and squeezes him.

 

Their teams have been trying to covertly observe them, but at this point they give up and stare openly.

 

“I’ll miss you too, but please try to behave yourself.” Suga unwraps Oikawa’s arms and straightens his boyfriend’s clothes. “My flight is longer, but I’ll video call you once I’m home.”

 

“My team has a meeting when we get back, but I should be done by the time you land. I’ll be waiting.”

 

They look at each other. Suga can read sadness in Oikawa’s eyes, but his smile is genuine.

 

“Don’t be too lonely without me,” he says.

 

“I won’t be because I’ll call every night.”

 

“I’ll look forward to it.” Suga sets his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders. “Bend down.”

 

After Oikawa does so, Suga gives him a kiss, their first in the light of day. He can hear the gasps and whistles from both their teams. He ignores them knowing that they’ll both get their fair share of teasing on the way home. He focuses on the press of their lips, the soft warmth of Oikawa’s mouth, and tries to fix this memory in his mind for the long months ahead. 

 

Suga pulls back. Oikawa looks even happier now, and he leans in and presses a kiss to the mole beneath Suga’s eye.

 

“I will see you in six months.” Suga can feel Oikawa’s breath over his cheek.

 

“Six months,” Suga confirms. “And next time my team will win, Tooru.”

 

Oikawa laughs. “Is that a bet?”

 

“Winner kisses the loser.”

 

A promise.

 

“Looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end! I really had a fun time writing this ❤
> 
> If you're still looking for some quality Oisuga content please keep an eye on [12 the Oisuga Zine](https://twelveoisugazine.tumblr.com/), which will feature myself along with 11 other wonderful writers and 12 amazing artists.


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